Take My Chances
by Hellmanns
Summary: A story involving lovers, heartaches, and Newsies.
1. Realization

In front of the courthouse we watched him. His finger raised in the air and pointing to all of us, convincing us that we had to stick together. Not sophistication, but toughness enamored us. Not articulation, but strength captured us. We were with him and we were going to stick it out. He made us believe we were all in this together, acting together, and we were.  
  
He had such confidence exuding from all parts of his body. His large feet were firmly planted (except when they shifted, but that was confident too), his long legs could not have been stronger, his torso was lean yet sturdy, his arms were muscular, his hands had the gift of communication, his shoulders were round but looked square sometimes and always perfectly strong, and his face would have this look on it that said, "You can't hurt me!" He was untouchable, at least, to any of us.  
  
To me, also, I believed. I wanted him to be, more than anything, because at that moment, while staring intently at his red bandana and greasy hair, I realized that I wanted Jack.  
  
I think the first thing that attracted me to him was his confidence. I had always known, from the first day I met him, that I was attracted to him. I had never taken it seriously; thinking I had no chance, I forgot about him within a matter of days. He was on my right, watching Jack as I was, with his arm around my shoulders. He liked being my protector.  
  
I rotated my head so I would be able to see him; I only got as far as his feet. He needed new shoes; the ones he was wearing were scuffed and too tight. I had asked him a few days before how he could walk in shoes that hurt him so much. He smiled and rubbed the shoes affectionately. "Because I love dese ole' things," he replied in his thick New York accent. I remember that very vividly.  
  
I continued to study him now, noticing his loose black pants, brown-and-tan- checkered vest, soot-stained white shirt, and almost-black hat. Suddenly he looked at me and I looked down. Then I looked up at Jack.  
  
I don't know what happened at that moment that made me so chilled, but I felt a shiver run up my spine and then Jack was staring at me. I was instantly exposed to him; my thoughts and wishes were as plain as day, and I always believed that at that moment, he knew.  
  
Without faltering, he looked away at the endless sea of faces in the crowd. They were waiting for the climax of his speech, and it was getting nearer.  
  
The boy with the ill-fitting shoes tightened his grip around my shoulders. I began to feel very uncomfortable and tried to subtly wriggle out of his hold. He looked at me strangely and said, "What's wrong?"  
  
"It's hot," I replied. I squinted and looked upward. "The heat's killing me."  
  
"Do you wanna go back to the lodging house? I'll walk ya."  
  
"No, it's okay. He's almost done." And he was. Not ten seconds later the whole crowd of street boys was in a screaming state of frenzy and I was left to try and emulate their excitement.  
  
There was nothing exciting about my situation. I was alone in a dark hole with only one person to save me.  
  
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	2. A New Beginning

(A Flashback)  
  
It does not usually drop to 60 degrees in August in New York. Yet, with suitcase in hand, I climbed the steps to the Newsboys Lodging House porch, taking in cool air.  
  
I rang the bell gingerly and waited for my uncle to answer it. I took a moment to observe the surroundings. Everything, from the Lodging House sign to the wagons and passing carriages to the passers-by, was stained with soot and brown dust from the road. No newsboys were around; I supposed they were all out doing their jobs.  
  
I was watching a young woman wander around aimlessly, when-  
  
"Eh-you-you arr...?" A wrinkled old man with round spectacles and no teeth appeared inside the building. He looked so harmless and agreeable that I knew at once that I liked him.  
  
"Hello! I believe I'm your grandniece. Katie Rose, I'm called." I set down my suitcase and extended a hand to him. The wrinkled old man looked surprised, but pleased, and shook it heartily.  
  
"And yer here now - all-all the way from Boston, is it?"  
  
"Yes, and I AM very glad to be here."  
  
This seemed to suit him very well, and he let out a delighted laugh that filled the whole foyer and somehow made it seem brighter.  
  
"Eh, come on, lemme show ya' 'round," he offered, and shuffled away from the doorway. I removed my bonnet and followed him. Deeper into the entrance way stood a large counter with books and papers all scattered untidily about. There were a few wooden chairs nearby, and a staircase that looked rather untrustworthy. Overhead hung a small ceiling fan, and all over the floor were scattered random articles of clothing, a cigar, a razor, and (although it seemed very out-of-place) a pocketwatch with a gold chain.  
  
My uncle scratched his head and turned to me sheepishly. "Hard ta keep it clean, what wit all the boys livin' heah."  
  
I smiled warmly as I flicked off a spider that had landed on my arm. "Oh, that's alright, I think it's charming. Quite different from anything I'm used to."  
  
"Ha! Nothin' to yer aunt's house, I'd bet. Eh, how is Maimee, the ole' girl?"  
  
A loud startling squeak came from the doorhinge, and -  
  
"Heya, Kloppman! Say, you seen my-"  
  
A dark-haired, round-faced, vertically-challenged boy clad in a brown-and- tan-checkered vest and a cabby hat swept through the doorway and into the room where Uncle Kloppman and I stood. He was apparently in a hurry, but stopped short when he noticed me. We stared at each other for a couple of seconds before Kloppman spoke.  
  
"Eh - come 'ere, boy! Come on, come an' meet 'her." He motioned for the boy to come nearer the big counter.  
  
"Hi," he muttered, frowning at me.  
  
"Hi," I replied, smiling. I waited for him to smile back, but...no such luck. He just kept staring at me.  
  
We shook hands. Uncle Kloppman looked from the boy to me expectantly. "Well?" he shouted, as though we were hard of hearing. "Aren'tcha' gonna introduce ya'selves? Huh?"  
  
"Oh. I'm - well, all the guys just call me Racetrack."  
  
I stifled a laugh. What a name! "I'm Katie Rose, but everyone calls me Katie."  
  
"She's gonna be livin' heah wit us for awhile now," Uncle Kloppman informed him. The boy's eyes widened a little, but his expression didn't change and he didn't take his eyes from me.  
  
Uncle Kloppman coughed. "Eh, Race, what was it you uh...?"  
  
The boy blinked and the gaze was broken. He proceeded to inquire after his pocketwatch, and when he had found it amongst the other various treasures that lay on the dusty floor, he took his leave.  
  
I saw him look back at me over his shoulder as he walked out of the house and onto the quiet street. I gave him one last look and turned to my uncle. "Are all the boys...like that one...?" I questioned as politely as I could.  
  
He smiled knowingly. "Race is usually moah...friendly, but see, dese fellas ain't used to bein' around ladies much. He's just noivous, he'll warm up to ya." 


	3. Dinner

It was all I could do to keep myself from getting all worked up about supper that night. After "Racetrack's" reaction to my moving in, I was dreading having loads of boys look at me the same way. When I asked Kloppman (he mentioned that I could drop the "Uncle" title) what I should wear to dinner, he laughed and mentioned something about "dress not bein' an issue in da house." Except, he added, I might want to buy something that could afford to get stained quite a bit. I was certainly up for that; fancy clothes have never been my cup of tea.  
  
I think that Kloppman noticed my anxiety, because he spent some time before dinner calming my nerves. "Now, don'tchu worry 'bout bein' intimidated by all da boys," he said, smiling. "They're gonna be in a good mood tanight anyway." He explained that he only cooked for the boys once a week - the rest of the time, they had to fend for themselves. "Yeh, it's a hard life for 'em...but dey manage," he stated as he set the table. I put the last of the cups down at their respective place settings.  
  
"So, how old are all of these boys?"  
  
But before Kloppman could answer, a jumble of four or five of them came bustling through the door, heading straight for the table. I immediately stopped what I was doing and was captivated by their talk; it was mostly about food. One of the youngsters was bragging about how he was so hungry he could eat a weasel. I didn't think that made much sense, but they all laughed, and then there was a sudden hush. They were all staring blankly at me.  
  
Once again, Kloppman introduced me as the girl who would be living here for awhile. To my surprise and delight, they didn't seem to hate the idea. In fact, they took it very well. They all smiled when they introduced themselves as Boots, Specs, Snipes, Dutchy, and Bumlets. Here I had expected to meet Robert's, Paul's, and Daniel's!  
  
And then the rest came in. They made so much noise; they yelped and shouted and bellowed (depending on if their voice had changed or not) about who- knows-what; it was wonderful noise, though, and I loved it!  
  
There were at least a dozen of them, maybe more. Some were uncommonly good- looking. I couldn't believe I was going to be LIVING here with all of them for the next couple months. It would be like having 20 brothers!  
  
And there was Racetrack, using his cigarette to point me out to a boy with sandy-colored hair and an eyepatch over one eye. I couldn't help being curious about what he was saying under his breath. My heart sank as I watched them share a quick chuckle and look sideways at each other. Oh, great, I thought sullenly. They're laughing at me.  
  
As suddenly as before, everyone stopped talking and stared at me. Some were already seated at table; others were still huddled in one great mass. As the 20 or so pairs of eyes gawked, Kloppman appeared at my side and said, "Dis heah's Katie; she'll be livin' wit us for awhile." When nobody moved, he exclaimed, "Whatsa' mattah? Ain'tchya's evah seen a goil befoah?"  
  
As they shuffled and bumped their way onto the benches lining both sides of the table, I tried to appear calm and unruffled. What would I have to say? Would I be able to talk to them? And then something else hit me. I didn't exactly have a New York accent. Would they laugh at the way I talked? For a moment I contemplated faking an accent...but then I remembered that I had already spoken to Kloppman and Racetrack. I certainly don't need any reason for Racetrack to poke more fun at me, I thought as I shakily climbed into a spot between two boys.  
  
I had just taken a sip of water, when I heard my name coming from the opposite end of the table -  
  
".....Katie? Jack might - "  
  
I looked up, but no one over there was looking at me. No sooner had I picked up my fork, when -  
  
"So uh, wheah ya from?"  
  
I felt eyes on me, more than one pair, coming from all directions, but one pair hitting me from directly across the table. My own eyes darted up to meet the one pair, and they landed on gorgeous dark brown ones. I tried to, but couldn't look away from the intense stare coming from them.  
  
Be calm, I told myself. Just - | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | 


	4. Introductions

"She's from Boston - y'know, up north?"  
  
Startled, I turned my head and saw Kloppman standing behind me, ladling out stew for everyone. I gave him a quick smile and returned to the gaze of the brown - eyed boy.  
  
"Oh, yeah? So, uh, why'dya come heah?" He scooped a spoonful of stew off his plate and shoveled it into his mouth. "Ain't Boston nicah den dis place?"  
  
"Well, actually, I was sent here," I replied before I had a chance to get nervous about talking to this tremendously good-looking boy, "so I didn't have much choice in the matter."  
  
Most of the boys had quieted down now and seemed to be very interested in what I was saying.  
  
"B-but I like it here, so far," I added quickly, taking another sip of water.  
  
The boy smiled and nodded his head. "Good."  
  
All at once there was a flood of questions from both ends of the table.  
  
"Who sentcha?"  
  
"Why'd dey bring ya HEAH?"  
  
"Why ah y'livin' wit us?"  
  
A tiny lad sitting at the other end of the table, near Racetrack, asked, "You ain't gonna be our mudda now, are ya?"  
  
That lightened the mood (or at least calmed my trembling nerves) significantly, and as we laughed, Racetrack grinned and rumpled the kid's hair. I couldn't help but notice that he didn't seem as interested in my arrival as all the others did...but then, I couldn't expect everyone to like me straight away.  
  
I answered all their questions happily.  
  
"Well, you see I've been living with my great-aunt ever since my parents died, and she - well, she decided that it would be best for me to....move, and since Kloppman's my uncle, she sent me here to live with him."  
  
"Kloppman, you never told us you had a niece," Dutchy said, smiling.  
  
"Grandniece. She ain't old enough to be my niece. Prolly yaw age, Cowboy." He pointed to the brown - eyed boy across from me.  
  
'Cowboy?' I thought, although I wasn't surprised. 'A name like Katie must be considered foreign around these parts.'  
  
The rest of dinner flew by smoothly, and upon finishing I had many pairs of hands reach for my plate, offering to put it in the washbasin for me. "Why, thank you," I said, delighted that they were not all devoid of manners. 'I think I'm going to like it here,' I thought as I left the table in the direction of the kitchen. Kloppman was washing dishes.  
  
"'Tsa mattah?" He turned to me, smiling. "Ya still hungry?"  
  
"No, no...can I help you with these?" I started to roll up my sleeves.  
  
"Oh." He looked startled. "I didn't tink you'd know howta do dishes...don't your aunt have maids fa that?"  
  
I smiled, amused. "Well, of course, but it can't be that hard. What do I do first?"  
  
My uncle laughed. "Yaw coitanly eagah ta do chores! But I tink - I tink maybe tanight ya bettah enjoy da fresh air." He gestured toward the front door. "Da boys usually hang around outside for awhile before dey go to bed."  
  
"Oh! Well, that sounds nice. You're right, I could use some fresh air." What could I say? I was eager to meet the boys! After all, who wouldn't be?  
  
As I walked through the doorway, the cool night air hit me. I rolled down my sleeves and watched them. They were playing some kind of game where they all ran around trying to catch each other. It was very amusing to watch. One group of boys wasn't playing, though. I observed as "Cowboy" and a few others walked casually over to where I stood, still fiddling with my shirt sleeve.  
  
"Hiya," the one called "Cowboy" said as the others formed a circle around me. He was easily the tallest.  
  
"Hello." I couldn't help but smile; I was surrounded by incredibly handsome faces! "Cowboy" cleared his throat.  
  
"Seein' as yaw new around heah, we figya'ed y'outta know who everybody is," he began. "Lemme introduce everyone"- he pointed to each of them in turn -"dis heah's Blink, Mush, and Crutchy"- they all nodded, muttering various greetings. "...I heah you already met Bumlets, Specs, Snipes, Boots, 'n Dutchy..."  
  
"Um, yes, I think so." It was very hard to keep those names straight...especially when they were all so ODD.  
  
"...I'm Jack," he pointed to himself.  
  
"Oh?" I interrupted. "I thought you were 'Cowboy.'"  
  
"Oh." His face lit up in a wide smile. "Yeah, some o' the fellas call me dat...dat 'n a lotta othah things. But you can call me Jack, if you wanna."  
  
"Pleasure to meet you all," I said truthfully.  
  
"Oh, and dat's Race-" Jack pointed to the small dark-haired boy. He was leaning against a beam in front of a building, by himself, smoking a cigarette. "He says he already met you." Jack and Blink were donning sly smiles, but I didn't know why. My face grew dim with the thought of the meeting that had happened earlier that day. Had I said something wrong? Had there been something in my teeth? Was it my dress? My hair? I quickly ran a hand through my locks and turned to Jack.  
  
"Yes, we've met. Tell me...is he...a bit shy, sometimes?" I twirled my hair nervously.  
  
Jack's grin grew wider. All four boys were smiling now, except for Mush, who struck me as a might oblivious.  
  
"Aw, Race only gets shy around goils he-" He stopped, looking for an instant like a little boy who had just realized he was in trouble. He coughed. "Uh, yeah, he's shy sometimes."  
  
Curious about what he had been going to say but not in the mood to try and find out, I mumbled, "I see," and turned toward the Lodging House.  
  
"Oh, hey, and if y'evah wanna know somethin', we're da ones ta ask," Jack offered. He pointed to the group playing the chasing game. "If y'evah wanna know theah names, just ask an' I'll introduce you."  
  
"Thanks." I smiled as best I could, and entered the house once more. 


	5. Raven

I was slipping my night gown over my head when his face popped into my mind without warning. Those dark features; purely black eyebrows and eyes just one shade less, with hair settled on top of it all....  
  
I shook the face out of my brain, frustrated.  
  
"Where did THAT come from?" I said aloud. There was a knock at the door.  
  
"'T's just me!" I heard Kloppman's muffled voice say.  
  
"Oh, come in!" I answered, making sure the gown was all the way on. He entered and closed the door behind him, smiling warmly.  
  
"So, eh, how'dya like da place so fah?"  
  
I returned the smile. "I think I like it very much, thank you."  
  
"And...da boys? Dey behavin'?" He winked. I forced a chuckle. "Yes, the boys are very nice...very nice." All of a sudden the face was in my head again. I frowned and turned to my bureau, fussily arranging perfume bottles.  
  
"Alright, well, I'll say g'night den." He shuffled out the door, looking back only to comment, "If y'evah need anythin', I sleep in da room downstairs an' to da left." And with that he was gone. I thanked God for bringing me to New York safely and for the warm welcome, and climbed into bed. As I was exhausted from my long journey and long day, I thought that insomnia would not be an issue this night; however, as I would find, every time I closed my eyes, I saw the face. It was involuntary - completely involuntary. It was awful; well, not completely awful. A thousand times I asked myself, though, 'Why him? Why am I seeing the only one who doesn't want me here at all?' Suddenly an enormous wave of sadness and depression swept over me. I knew the reason. Racetrack didn't want me here. 'So? And?' "That's only one boy," I told myself. "One boy out of many others." I closed my eyes. Thin lips, round cheeks....  
  
I sighed desperately as tears formed behind my eyes.  
  
That night I had a terrifying dream and woke up screaming. Luckily, no one heard me, it seemed; there was a great bustling in the rooms down the hall. I was so shaken from my dream that I practically fell out of bed. I staggered to the washstand in the corner of my room, and as the cool water hit my face, I whispered to myself, "It was only a dream, only a dream." I let out a great sigh, hoping it would take all the bad feeling out of me. I concentrated on clearing my mind and in a few minutes I felt much better. I rushed to find something informal to wear - something that could afford to get dirty, and still catch one's eye - 'Oh, no, what am I thinking?' I asked myself, frightened to death of what I knew the answer was. 'No. I refuse to think about that anymore...won't think about him anymore...won't dream -" I shook my head furiously and concentrated on finding something to wear. When I had chosen a brown skirt and light pink top (the one with the least lace), I hurriedly brushed the tangles out of my hair, gave myself one small spritz of perfume, and exited the room. I was met by a steady stream of boys galloping through the hall and down the stairs, shouting and goofing off as they donned bright smiles. One in particular looked exceedingly happy, and I realized that it was Jack.  
  
"Heya, Katie! What a beautiful mornin, huh?" He was running his hand through his hair self-consciously, but grinning just the same. I turned to the nearest newsboy, a curly-haired fellow with very dark eyes framed by very dark eyebrows. "What is Jack so happy about?" I inquired. "It's not THAT beautiful..." In fact, it was rather cloudy.  
  
"Oh, that." The boy laughed, amused. "Well, ya see, Jack's got dis...well, deah's dis goil dat he kinda...well, you'll see. Oh, deah she is - deah she comes!" I followed his outstretched finger with my eyes until it landed on a striking young girl who was making her way towards the Lodging House. I started a little when I saw her - the look on her face was nothing short of frightening. She looked like a bomb about to burst any second!  
  
"Jack Kelly, you WORTHLESS, PIG-eating son of a WHORE!"  
  
"Um...who is that?" I asked, startled. "And I'm sorry, I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Katie."  
  
"Yeah, I know," he said with a smile. "I'se Itey...and DAT-" (he pointed to the girl who was still screaming her head off) "-is Raven."  
  
As we walked down the stairs, I tried to get a better glimpse of her. She was very dynamic - lashing out (literally) at the boy she had been shouting her lungs out at just a moment ago. I quickly exited the House and watched as they provided entertainment for the newsboys and myself.  
  
"Well whatda hell'dya tink I was gonna do, Ray? Get up b'fore cracka' dawn, just fah some stupid idea o' yaw's?"  
  
I could see her face and features more clearly now - her brown eyes flashed with rage as she prepared her next comeback.  
  
"Well, since ya SAID you was gonna BE deah, what'dja tink I was gonna DO? Dja tink I was just gonna not show up? Oh, yeah, I guess I shoulda known y'would fahget about da whole ting. Sorry, it's all my fault!"  
  
Jack seemed exasperated. "C'mon, Rav!! Hey look, I didn't fahget - I tried to come, but -"  
  
Raven looked as if she was about to rip her auburn hair out of head.  
  
"Ya worthless COWBOY!! Shoah, ya tried ta come. SHOAH! I BELIEVE YA! Oh, and whenevah ya wanna sleep in again, DON'T LET ME STOP YA! Just stop me from sellin' moah papes! Tanks! I'LL APPRECIATE IT! JUST LIKE I APPRECIATE YAW APOLOGY RIGHT NOW!" "Wow." I turned to Itey again. "She coitanly is a fightah." 


	6. Lost

Itey laughed at my attempt at an accent.  
  
"Yeah, she and Jacky fight like cats'n dogs. Dis happens almost every day." All of us were now walking away from the Lodging House with Jack and Raven in the lead; they were still going at it. Every now and then we'd hear little tidbits from their argument;  
  
"I said I was sorry! It ain't my fault I didn' wake up early enough!"  
  
"Yeah, well, fine. Just don' expect me ta help ya da next time ya need a hand. Came heah ta help ya sell, didn' I?"  
  
"Yeah, ya did. But not ta boss me around like you was me mudda."  
  
There was a pause; I had a pretty clear view of Raven's profile now, and her face was a storm about to erupt.  
  
"Alright, if dat's how ya gonna be, dat's just fine! Guess it's different heah - cuz in Brooklyn, most everybody'll do anytin' ta get an advantage. Guess you'se Manhattan bummas ain't quite fit fa da job!" She had yelled this last statement into the herd of boys following her and her adversary, and from the crowd there came random "boos" and other noises.  
  
"Hey, who you callin' bummas?" Crutchy shouted, waving his fist.  
  
"Yeah, we'se fit fa da job, alright!" Blink added.  
  
"Oh, I see," the girl continued, brushing her auburn hair out of her face. "You'se fellas are alright - it's jus' Cowboy who ain't got no skills!"  
  
Jack laughed. "Yeah, dat's why I move 500 papes a week, Rav, right?" He gave her a playful pat on the head, which she returned with a hard punch in the arm. "Dontchu get handsy wit me, Cowboy, I'll have ya head! An' hey - let's see how y'do on dese streets wit me sellin' against ya, huh?" Let's just see!" She ran ahead, like she was trying to beat him in a race. It was then that I realized that I had followed them all the way to a square amid stores and restaurants and such. I was in downtown New York, and I had no idea where I was going or what I was doing. Itey must have seen the overwhelmed expression I wore.  
  
"Hey, you alright? Ya look a lil' confused." He stood with me as I watched the boys stream toward a humongous iron gate a few yards ahead. "Yes...I am confused." I looked at him as if crying for help. "I don't know what-how to get back to..."  
  
"Oh, okay," he nodded, smiling. "Well, c'mon, we'll hand ya ovah ta Cowboy. He'll know what ta do with ya."  
  
'What? Hand me over? I don't like the sound of that.' But there was no turning back as I followed Itey like a lost sheep through those humongous gates and into "Da Distribution Centah." There was a long line of boys standing on a platform that ran from some sort of booth to the edge of the gates. Jack was standing at the very head of the line, talking to a man inside the strange booth.  
  
"Hey, Jacky-Boy!" Itey ran over to him with me following close behind.  
  
"How 'bout da usual foah taday, Weas? It feels like a good 'un." Jack grinned and jumped down from the platform. "So, we got a new charge taday, Itey?" He was still grinning.  
  
"Yeah, I'll leave 'er to you, then-'s 'at okay?"  
  
"Yeah, shoah-say, I got'n idea." He was scanning the crowd for someone.  
  
"Arright, den-see ya 'round, Katie!"  
  
"Bye, Itey! And thank you!" I waved and turned back to Jack. "Hi, Jack. You don't have to take me back if it's too much trouble. Just show me the way, I'm pretty sure I can find my way back..."  
  
He gave me a strange look. "Whadda ya tawkin' about? Yaw wit us taday, aren'tcha?" Before I could answer, his eyes shot back to the crowd. He had apparently found who he was looking for, because he started waving his hands above his head and screamed, "Hey! Hey, Rave, c'meah fa a second!"  
  
The fiery young woman with dark eyes looked up from the bunch of boys that surrounded her. She quickly adopted a fierce expression when she spotted Jack. "'Ey, Kelly, what'd I tell ya 'bout askin' fa help?" She leaped off the platform and stomped over to where we stood. At first sight, she had been a bit intimidating, but upon getting a closer look I saw that she was only a little taller than me, and very pretty. I was surprised; from the way she had castigated Jack a moment ago, I had expected her to look more like one of the boys. Jack rolled his eyes. "Don' worry, I won't be needin' you ta hold my hand when I'm sellin'-I ain't askin' ya fa help, I just wanna see if you'd do me a favah."  
  
"Yeah, well what is it?" She hadn't seen me yet. Jack grabbed my arm, pulling me closer to the two of them.  
  
"Dis heah's Katie." He made a friendly gesture towards me. "She's Kloppman's niece-or grandniece, or somethin', and she's stayin' at da lodge wit us."  
  
Raven stared at me, wide-eyed. "Yaw livin' with DEM?" She jerked her thumb in the boys' direction. She chuckled. "How do ya survive it in deah? I wouldn' last a week widdose smelly toads." 


	7. A Favah

I laughed. "You get used to the smell," I joked. Jack looked shocked and amused.  
  
"I didn't know you was a walkin' mouth, goil!"  
  
Raven was amused also. "The name's Raven, and don'tchu fahget it. Pleasuah ta meetcha. So Cowboy, what's dis favah I ain't decided ta do yet?"  
  
"Well, Katie's heah wit us now, and she don't exactly know anythin' about sellin'...so I was wond'rin' if ya could take her around with you taday. Y'know, show her da ropes?" He looked pleadingly at Raven, who was frowning. I could see the smile playing on her lips, though, as she spoke.  
  
"I ain't gonna do dis every time you want a favah, Cowboy, so don't think y'can always ask me!"  
  
His face brightened into a glorious smile and he gave her a friendly pat on the back. "Tanks, Rav, I knew I could count on you!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled as he ran off to join the crowd of guys. She turned to me. "So ya tryin' ya hand at sellin' taday, huh? And wit DOSE clothes? Dat's da foist thing we gotta fix."  
  
I glanced down at myself. "But...this was the only-"  
  
"No, dose ain't gonna woik. Ya look too naive as it is, and we can't have customahs tinkin' dey can take advantage of ya."  
  
"W-What do you mean?" She was making me nervous. First my clothes were all wrong, and now I was naive? How was I ever going to survive? I guess she sensed my fright, because she softened a little.  
  
"But we'll getcha fixed up. Foist we gotta find some clothes...." She looked around a couple times, surveying the boys.  
  
"What are you looking for?" 'She wouldn't be...no, she couldn't possibly think that I would...  
  
"Ah!" Her face brightened. "Deah we go! Hey, Race, get ovah heah for a second!"  
  
I was startled to hear his name, and turned to look where Raven was facing. He was about 10 feet away, talking to Blink, and when Raven called him he looked over and frowned.  
  
"Whadda you want, Raven? An' dis bettah not take all day, I got papes ta sell."  
  
Raven smiled sweetly, which took me by surprise. "Now, don't be like dat, Race, c'mon, won'tcha be a good kid an' do me a favah?"  
  
He glanced at me, then back to her. "So what's dis favah, anyway?" I suddenly felt extremely apprehensive. 'Oh, no, Raven...what are you doing? Not him!'  
  
"Well, ya see, ya friend Katie heah, bein' not from around heah, as I can tell jus' by lookin' at hah, jus' ain't got da propah attire fa sellin' papes." She took a step towards him. "And seein' as you'se two ah somewheah neah da same size, well, I was tinking dat maybe you'd..." She paused, looking from me to him. We were now staring at each other, frowning. At least, I think I was frowning. I was trying to frown, but it was so HARD when I was looking at him...he made me want to smile. "-dat maybe you'd lend hah some clothes." He was still staring. 'Why doesn't he look away?' I thought, getting more apprehensive by the second. 'Why, Raven, WHY? Why did you hafta pick HIM?'  
  
He quickly took his cigar out of his mouth, dropping it on the ground.  
  
"Yeah, sure. Come on, dis way." | | | | | | | | | | | 


	8. Runway

I was completely shocked when he didn't object to Raven's suggestion, and could barely take the first steps back toward the Lodging House. He was staying a few paces ahead of Raven and I, so I took this opportunity to observe him. The dark gray pants he wore hung loosely around his legs and waist. They must have been held up by suspenders, but I couldn't see them because of the vest he had on. It was black in the back, and brown-and-tan checkered in the front. Under the vest was a long-sleeved button-down white shirt, and it was pretty clean compared to the other boys'. His hat was a few shades darker than his pants, and rested sideways on his jet black hair. He was a wondrous thing to look at from behind; his swagger made him entertaining to watch, even if all he was doing was walking from place to place.  
  
We turned a corner and a young woman appeared, sitting on a wooden stool at the side of the road. She was painting on a small piece of canvas that rested on a small easel.  
  
"'Eya, Runway!" Raven exclaimed, apparently glad to see her.  
  
"Raven! Mornin' to ya!" She stood up and I saw that she was slim and petite - just a smidge taller than me. "Hi, Race - and who's'is?" She turned to me, smiling.  
  
"Dis is Katie - she's new at da Lodge. We'ah headin' theah right now ta get hah some decent clothes."  
  
"Oh, but I like her clothes," the girl stated, taking ahold of my sleeve. "Dis is really nice fabric...yaw not from around heah, are you?"  
  
"No, I'm from Boston," I began distractedly, noticing her painting. "This is absolutely beautiful!"  
  
It was a depiction of a hilly pasture, complete with grazing sheep and vibrant greens and blues. The contrast between the gorgeous colors and the dismal New York City background struck me. Runway blushed as I admired her piece. "Gee, thanks. 'T's just somethin' I whipped up dis mornin'- nothin' special." She sat down again on her stool, continuing her work. "Oh! I gots some mighty interesting news for ya, Rav," she added with a mischievous grin.  
  
"Oh, yeah? An' wassat?" She tried to look unintrigued, but her curiosity was evident. I stole a glance at Racetrack to find him eyeing me the same way he had last night; his round face appeared even rounder when he was frowning. I suddenly felt very uncomfortable.  
  
"Well," Runway went on, drawing out her news for all it was worth, "a little boid told me dat Spottie Boy's takin' a trip out heah." The expression on Raven's face turned from curious to hopeful. "Really?" she asked, her eyes opening wider with anticipation.  
  
Runway smiled, satisfied. "Would I tell ya if I wasn't sure?" Her smile was apparently contagious.  
  
"So, when's he comin'?" I thought Raven's eyes would pop out of her head.  
  
"When's he COMin'? He's a'ready heah!" The girl set down her paintbrush, looking over her shoulder before turning back to her friend. "But no one's supposed to know yet - 'specially not you," she whispered excitedly.  
  
"...Why not?" Raven was calculating something in her mind.  
  
"Dis's all very interestin', ladies, but like I said, I got papes ta sell," Race spoke up. "I ain't got all day."  
  
"Raven, y'know I could just - I don't want to -" I was positive that Raven's idea of me borrowing clothes from Race wasn't a good one, and I hated being a bother like this.  
  
"Yeah, ya right, Race, we gotta go - I guess I'll tawk to ya tomorra, Run." She started to lead on, but stopped and pivoted to face Race and me.  
  
"Atchally," she began, running a hand over her dark hair, "atchally I tink I'm gonna go...take care o' some'n - I'll see you'se guys latah - tanks, Race!" And with that, she was jogging in the direction from which we had come.  
  
"Shoah, no pro'lem," was his sarcastic response. He waved a hand in front of his face. "All you goils, you go fa' Spot," he remarked, and shook his head. "When ya gonna loin?"  
  
Runway had continued her work. "It's a fact o' life, Race, you know it." She then turned to me and smiled. "He's just bittah 'cause he ain't got as many as Spot has."  
  
"As many? As many what? Girls, you mean?" I immediately felt stupid after saying it.  
  
"Aw, put a lid on it, Run." He kicked a stone a few feet and shoved his hands in his pockets. "You know I don't caeh about dat."  
  
Runway's eyes glittered as she grinned. "Oh, dat's right. You don't want lotsa goils - just one's enough fa you." I looked at him. He was staring at her furiously, but somehow imploring her. "Found da right one yet, Race?" she asked playfully, and suddenly glanced at me.  
  
His expression grew in intensity.  
  
"News travels fast," was her last comment. "Good lu-"  
  
"We gotta go." His hands now out of his pockets, Race was walking away without so much as a look at Runway.  
  
"Goo'bye! Nice to meet you!" I yelled to her, struggling to keep up with him.  
  
"Same ta you," I heard as we walked around a corner and out of sight. 


	9. Clothes

The streets got dirtier as we travelled farther from the bustling main streets, but I didn't mind. I had never been exposed to that side of Boston; Aunt and I had always travelled through it with the carriage drapes shielding our vision, so I had never seen poverty alive and well in the streets.  
  
Before I knew it we were in the Lodging House once again. Kloppman was standing behind the front desk, looking unwell. As soon as he saw me he stormed towards us, eyes wild and arms flailing.  
  
"DEHE you are! D'you know how many places I been lookin' fa you?"  
  
"I-I'm sorry-I just-went out-with-"  
  
"She just wanted ta sell wit us taday, Kloppy," Race jumped in. "Keep ya shoit on, I been takin' caeh o' hah." I shot him a look of gratitude. Kloppman was scary when he was mad!  
  
But what Race had said didn't help. The old man turned on him, angrier than before, and exclaimed, "You took her up to da TRACK?! Why'dya go'n do some'n like dat? It's practically her foist day hehe, boy, whaddaya TINKin'?" I winced as his voice grew louder and raspier with every syllable.  
  
"I didn' take her ta da track! Fa cryin' out loud, will ya stop screamin'?" I was shocked at how unafraid he was of my uncle. To my relief, the old man calmed down after Race made this clear. "You tellin' the truth, boy?" he asked suspiciously. The boy brought his lips together in what was almost a pout. "Yeah, o' course I'm tellin' 'a truth. I wanted ta sell downtown taday, dat's awl."  
  
Kloppman sighed. "Arright," he replied, "arright. I'm sorry fa bein' so hard on y', Katie, 't's just dat you'se my responsibility now, an' if anythin' evah happened to ya, Maimee would-"  
  
"She wouldn't care," I interrupted, shrugging. It was true.  
  
He shook his head fervently. "I don't caeh what you say; I'd take a lotta heat fa yaw loss-will y' just TELL me next time y' wanna go somewhehe? At least den I'll know whehe you ah, and I'll send one o' da boys wit ya."  
  
I nodded, grateful to be off the hook. "In the future, yes. I'm sorry- really, I am."  
  
He smiled. "It's alright-but say, what're ya doin' back heah, anyway? Dja figya I'd be worried sick 'boutcha an' come ta calm me down?"  
  
"She needs some clothes," Race explained, frowning at the man. "An' why were ya worried about her? She was wit us."  
  
'You didn't exactly offer to help me find my way around,' I mused as I pushed up the sleeves of my light pink blouse. 'Are you going to try to take all the credit?'  
  
"Well, I didn't know she was wit you! She coulda been anywhehe! I-"  
  
"Ok, ok, enough wit da lectchas-c'mon, upstaehs," he answered and jerked his face toward the banister.  
  
After flashing Kloppman a nervous smile, I followed Race up and into the bunkroom. I gingerly stepped over the dingy, off-white shirts that greeted us as we entered. Race didn't seem to notice anything besides a large lump on top of the pillow of a bottom bunk. I stood next to the bed, observing him. His hands were shaking slightly as he picked up the trousers, shirt, and suspenders.  
  
"I guess you can weah dese." He handed me the pants.  
  
"Oh-so should I just wear my own shirt?" I looked down at the pink lace. 'Why doesn't he let me wear his shirt?'  
  
He coughed, looking more nervous than ever. "Well, uh-dis one ain't clean" -he held up the slightly yellowed clump of fabric and dropped it by accident- "so uh..." he glanced down at the body of the one he was wearing, "I guess you can have dis one."  
  
"Oh, you don't have to-"  
  
"Naw, naw, you take dis one. It smells bettah." I laughed and almost saw the corners of his mouth perk up into a smile. He bent over and grabbed the dirty shirt. "I'll just go an' change," he stammered, and entered one of the stalls lining the wall. When he came out, he handed me the clean shirt he had been wearing.  
  
"Thanks," I said quietly, and folded it over my arm before choosing a stall.  
  
A shiver went through me as I turned over the items in my hands. I was reluctant to put them on; I had never even thought about wearing men's clothes before, and the prospect of it was a little unnerving. I smiled to myself, though, as I imagined Aunt Maimee's reaction. "Well, here goes nothing," I said to myself, before remembering that Race might still be in the room. I listened for any sound-there was nothing.  
  
'Well that's nice,' was my immediate reaction. 'Just leave me here...how'm I supposed to get back downtown?' I huffed and proceeded to undress myself.  
  
Although his absence distressed me somewhat, it would give me a chance to do something I hadn't had the pleasure of doing since I had gotten there. I decided to sing.  
  
"Goodnight, my someone, goodnight, my love....."  
  
The shirt, which had hung loosely on Racetrack's torso, was even more baggy on me. It fit me in almost the same way it did him, though, and I was a bit alarmed when my undersized chest almost fell out of it.  
  
"Sleep tight, my someone, sleep tight, my love....."  
  
The trousers were also extremely baggy, and like nothing I had ever worn before...I could tell this new feel of pants would take some getting used to.  
  
"Our star is shining its brightest light....."  
  
I let my hair fall past my shoulders. I whimpered at the thought of it being the last feminine-looking part of me. There was no mirror in the stall, so I couldn't really tell what I looked like. 'That's probably a good thing right now,' I reminded myself. I opened the door.  
  
"For goodnight, my love, for-"  
  
To my surprise and dismay, Race was standing in front of me, leaned against a pole, one arm at his side and the other holding a lit cigar. I was mortified.  
  
"Oh! I didn't....I....uh," I searched for words to express my embarrassment. After turning several shades of pink, I finally burst out with, "I didn't know you were still here."  
  
It took him several seconds to answer; his face had adopted a softer expression now, and his eyes were actually inviting. There was nothing of the cold and deliberate harshness I had seen in them before. He just stood staring at me for the longest time, and finally broke the gaze in order to throw down the cigar.  
  
"Well, I couldn't leave witout ya-he'd have my head." He motioned to the stairwell and frowned again. I still couldn't believe he had heard me...I was utterly humiliated. 


	10. Da Ropes, Courtesy Of Raven

"You didn't have to wait; I think I could have found my way back," I lied. Race's hands were in his pockets, tapping his thighs.  
  
"Well, I got nothin' bettah ta do."  
  
Awkwardly, we walked out of the room.  
  
After following him downtown, we found Raven. I must say I felt like a child being passed between parents. "She's all yours," he said, walking away. I watched as he turned back to us, fingering his pocketwatch. "Unless ya still need me."  
  
I smiled, but apparently Raven had her own agenda. "Nah, we'se fine heah - go sell, Race, we don't wanna keep ya."  
  
"Okay, den." The frown was back and he nodded briefly. "Oh, an' tell Spot he owes me a dime, will ya?" He was gone. I didn't have time to react because Raven had taken hold of my shoulders and was spinning me around, observing my new look. She giggled. "Ya just look so funny in boy's clothes," she explained, ripping off a piece of her sleeve. The ripping sound made me wince. "Heah." She handed me the fabric. "Tie ya hair up widdis - ya can' go around like dat, ain' nobody gonna buy from ya. Ya look like ya goin' on a date or somethin'."  
  
I frowned. "How could I possibly look like I was going out with a boy? I'm not fit to be seen." I sighed, looking down at myself again. Disgusting!  
  
'But it could be worse. These do smell nice.' I sniffed my shirt sleeve. 'Yes, he was right.it's not bad.'  
  
"Uh..whadda ya doin'?" She was eyeing me strangely. "Hope ya not expectin' dat ta smell like roses.cause it won't.y'know, Race ain't big on washin' his clothes too often." She smirked and I could tell she was kidding.  
  
"Oh - oh, no, I didn't expect that." I blushed. "I was just - oh, never mind." I commenced tying.  
  
Raven raised a brow at me. "Okay, den." She spun around and pointed to a pile of milk crates and wooden boxes near the entrance to an alley. "See dat lovely little spot? Dat's yaws now." She smiled.  
  
"M-mine.?"  
  
"Yeah, yaws. From now on, aftah you buy ya papes every mawnin', ya gonna strut ovah deah an' scream ya lungs out!"  
  
I gulped. "Scream?"  
  
"Yeah, scream! Ya gotta make ya voice hoid!" She handed me about five newspapers, which I took with reluctance. "Now lemme see whatcha got." She folded her arms as if she were about to critique my performance.  
  
"But - I -"  
  
"Go!"  
  
I gulped. 'I'm going to have to do this sooner or later - might as well get it over with.'  
  
I took a deep breath. Slowly making my way towards "my spot," I held the newspaper up to my chest and exclaimed in a loud voice (or so I THOUGHT), "Dreyfus's Chief Advocate May Be Fatally Wounded!" I looked back at my instructor hesitantly.  
  
"NO, NO, NO!!" She raised her hands to her head and I thought she was actually going to rip her hair out.  
  
"Wha.?"  
  
"YA CALL DAT YELLIN'?!" She was stomping over and I was scared. She sighed, exasperated. "Now look," she began again, trying to calm herself; I could still see the wildly frustrated look in her eye, though. "Da foist ting ya gotta loin is dat dese streets are noisy - an' no one can HEAH you if you don't make 'em!" I nodded. "Shout it! Dis ain't no time ta be shy, now." She was really becoming passionate about this. "An' see dat spot? Dat's YAW spot. Nobody else's - just yaws. So own it!" She shooed me away towards the spot once more. "Go fo' it! Strut, goil, strut!"  
  
Determined to be an apt pupil and not disappoint her, I strutted to the best of my ability. It felt like an extremely out of character movement for me, but it was what she wanted, and I feared her too much not to follow her instructions.  
  
"DREYFUS'S CHIEF ADVOCATE MAY BE - "  
  
"No, no, no! Wait, come back heah."  
  
'What did I do wrong? I thought that was wonderful!' I trudged back towards the impatient girl. "Wasn't that loud enough?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, da volume was poifect. Now just one moah little prollem." After about five minutes of explaining the difference between good and bad headlines to me, I walked (excuse me, strutted) back to my spot to give it one more shot for the day. 


	11. Tibby's

"Katie, I'd like ya ta meet our very good friend Riley."  
  
"Hiya!" She smiled, and shook my hand. Much like Raven, she had dark, bold looks; her tan skin accentuated her blue eyes.  
  
"Hello," I smiled. She immediately made me feel comfortable and accepted even though I had never been inside Tibby's before.  
  
After almost an hour of helping me "hawk headlines," as she called it, my tutor had decided to call it a day. "I need food," she had announced, taking a fierce hold on my arm and dragging me off towards the square. It was amazing to watch her try and hide her frustration when I wasn't quite the natural she had hoped for. I could almost hear the "Good God, what've I gotten myself into?" run through her mind.  
  
And now I was standing in the midst of a dozen newsboys, two newsgirls, and a waiter who looked very disoriented and flustered. "Must be new," Raven muttered, pointing in his direction. "Bill's used to us makin' a madhouse outta dis place."  
  
But with Bill nowhere in sight, the young waiter bounced from table to table like a ping pong ball.  
  
"'Ey, you! T'ree sodas, huh?"  
  
"Ovah heah! Wheah's our hot dogs?"  
  
"Wanna give us our drinks already?"  
  
"What's takin' so long?!"  
  
"I-I'm sorry-! They'll be ready in..in a minute." The poor boy wiped his hands on his apron, before scurrying, frightened, over to our table. I remember thinking that a good-looking boy like him should have exuded confidence, but he merely appeared nervous and exhausted and wouldn't stop shaking! It was impossible not to feel pity for him.  
  
Riley was concluding her order. "..an' how 'bout a Scotch on the rocks, 'ey buddy?" His face only turned a brighter shade of pink when she winked. This boy clearly had no control over his emotions - his face gave everything away. 'He must find her very attractive,' I mused. 'Either that or he's never been winked at before.'  
  
"Oh - I'm very sorry, w-we don't serve alcohol at this estab-" It was as if his lips refused to carry out his mind's orders.  
  
The girl released a comfortable, mirthful laugh. "I'se only jokin', ya bummah! Just gimme whatevah they're havin', an' I'll be fine."  
  
Since Jack and Raven had already ordered, the boy turned to me, still shaking slightly. "M-miss?"  
  
"Wheah's Race?" Jack interrupted, lifting himself off the chair, setting his hands on the table so as to support himself while perusing the crowd.  
  
"Si'down, Cowface, he'll be heah any minute." Raven, who was sitting closest to him, put one hand on his shoulder and thrust him back down into his seat. His bottom hit the chair with a seemingly uncomfortable thump. He raised an eyebrow at her.  
  
"Listen, Muscles, it was his idea to get togethah taday an' I don't wan' him missin' it." I noticed Riley holding back a small snicker at Jack's new nickname for Raven. The dark-haired beauty shot her a look, but did not address her.  
  
"Well, dya wanna wait foh him or somethin'?"  
  
Jack's eyes cruised the crowd of boys again. "Well..nah, he'll find us. An' if he don't show up, we'll do some'in' tomorrah."  
  
Meanwhile, I was having fun with the waiter. "So.what do you have that's good here? Any duck? Lobster? Oooh, I love your vest!" Smiling playfully, I took the liberty of placing a hand on his chest and feeling the fabric of the garment. I thought his face was about to explode; he was positively purple with embarrassment, the poor thing!  
  
I glanced over at my new comrades as they struggled to stifle their laughter. One of Jack's hands was covering his open mouth, and Riley's forehead was rested on the table, the rest of her body shaking with giggles. Raven, however, was apparently not so amused; she was hunched over next to Cowboy, staring blankly into space. 'What's wrong with her.?' Since there was obviously nothing I could do about it at the present, I resolved to catch her alone later and find out what the trouble was.  
  
I smirked and turned my thoughts back to the waiter. 'This is fun!'  
  
"Uh..uh..M-Miss..w-would you - uh.." His eyes darted all over me. He licked his lips and tried to speak once more. "W-we - we don't have..ha.."  
  
"'Ey, Race! Ovah heah!" Jack stood up, waving him down.  
  
I released the waiter.  
  
The dark-haired boy was standing not two feet from the restaurant door; the bells were still jingling from when he had walked in. His hands were not in his pockets, his hat rested a little crookedly on his head, and his mouth was opened ever so slightly so you could see parts of his front teeth. His face was different from when I had last seen him, though - the brows were furrowed, but the expression they formed was not angry. Instead, for a split second I could have sworn I saw excitement in his eyes, but when I blinked it was gone. The eyes now bore a profound disappointment and..could it have been? Pain.  
  
I cast my eyes downward as he walked over.  
  
"Heya, Jack." He stopped at his friend's chair and put his hands in his pockets. He licked his lips.  
  
The waiter took this opportunity to escape. "Uh - sir..? Will you be - ordering anyth-thing?"  
  
Race looked at me. I quickly glanced elsewhere and started biting my nails. It was a nervous habit.  
  
"Nah, I ain't hungry."  
  
"But Race, y-" Jack stood up and started to gesture toward us.  
  
"I toldja, I ain't hungry! I'm goin' to da track. See ya latah." And without so much as a last glance, he was out the jingling door. 


	12. Punky and Irving Hall

"Come on, ya gotta do dis. Just go. Ya gotta. Just go ahead in theah. Look, she's-"  
  
"'Ey! Will ya keep it down?! I ain't tryin' ta advertise!!" The voice was agitated. As I removed my overcoat, the warm, musty air enveloped me and I quickly grew accustomed to the noise and crowded atmosphere.  
  
'So this,' I thought, gazing up and down the rows and rows from the top of the banister to the bottom of the last visible crimson velvet seat before the orchestra pit, 'This is the famous Irving Hall.'  
  
When earlier that afternoon, three or four hours after Race's abrupt exit from our lunch party, Jack had announced that night's plans, immediately there were titterings from all the boys and an all-around energetic buzz of excitement satiated the Lodging House.  
  
I hesitated. "And what's this...Irving Hall, then?" I asked only when Cowboy turned his face to me as the primary cheer of joy died down.  
  
Boyhood teased its way into his face as the corners of his mouth reached for his reddening ears. "It's a little establishment we like ta grace wit our presence every now an' den," was his gleeful response; another roar of laughter erupted in the ten or so youths huddled in the center of the lobby we were standing in.  
  
Once inside the "little establishment," I was able to recognize why the idea of going to Irving Hall excited them all so much. It was a pretty high-class place compared to the living conditions these boys were used to. Sure, I had been to bigger, fancier arenas before, but I wasn't about to discredit this place. I liked the atmosphere; it was so homey - Jack seemed to know everybody, and had been chatting up one of the stage managers a few minutes ago - and yet there was still the ever-present thrill of live theatre surrounding everyone.  
  
"Punky, hey Punky!" I jumped and suddenly became aware of the blonde spectacled lad sitting two seats away from me. "Oh, sorry," he said, and grinned sheepishly. I smiled.  
  
"It's alright. I met you at the Lodging House, didn't I?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm Dutchy." He extended his hand and I shook it. "An' this is - "  
  
"'Scuse me! Pardon - hey, thanks - yeah, comin' through!"  
  
The busty redhead was coming toward us fast, and I was inclined to stand up so as to give her more room with which to make her way down the row. Upon taking her seat between Dutchy and me, her face lit up with a vibrancy that I found refreshing. I can't say how many gloomy faces I saw while walking through the city streets that evening.  
  
"Hi, honey." She leaned over, kissed Dutchy on the cheek, and held his hand briefly. I laughed when he blushed, and this mystery girl turned her attention towards me. "Never seen you here before, 'cept for outside just now," she began, eyeing me strangely. "You with Jack?"  
  
"Oh - no, not - well, yes, kind of. He brought me here, if that's what you mean."  
  
"Oh...I see." She grinned and held out her hand. "Everyone calls me Punky." Her face was warm and friendly, and I gladly shook her hand.  
  
"Hello, Punky - I'm Katie." I smiled back and looked over her shoulder at "Honey." "And you two are...?" I whispered, pointing to each of them in turn.  
  
"Haha! Yeah, we are," she responded gleefully. The boy was blushing again, but I knew he was enjoying our conversation. He reached for her hand, and the look he gave her could have satisfied my soul for a week; he adored her. No one watching him gaze lovingly into her bluegray eyes could have denied that. And it was the way they connected when she looked back at him that made you realize; they had something.  
  
Suddenly the lights went low and the crowd began to settle; in the confusion, I barely noticed the body hurriedly plopping itself down in the seat directly to my right. My coat was lying on the arm of the chair; I turned away from Punky in order to remove it from the other person's arm rest. "Oh, I'm sorry - " I stopped, turning to face my next-seat neighbor. It was Racetrack.  
  
He was fidgeting, brushing off his pant legs, and trying to get comfortable...apparently it wasn't an easy task. He jerked his head towards me, the frown that seemed to perpetually invade his round face beginning to fade into a mixture of surprise and angst. "Hi," he muttered, raspily of course, and before I could contemplate answering he had shifted again to face the stage and the frown had again planted itself on his face.  
  
I didn't quite know what to think - so I let Punky think for me. She had taken her eyes off Dutchy, and I received a small nudge from her side. She nodded towards Race on my right. I shifted uneasily and pretended not to notice.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen...Miss Medda Larkson!" I was mildly startled when the crowd around me erupted in cheers and applause; Punky was apparently an admirer. "Wooo, Medda! Medda!" She nearly leapt out of her seat.  
  
Racetrack looked like he was surviving an internal struggle - he was clapping loudly, but his face was like the battleground for a warring frown and smile - which would win?  
  
Punky was leaning over to me again, looking mischievous. "Usually Race is all excited before our shows...now he just looks damned nervous." She leaned back again, and said a bit too loudly, "I wonder if he's distracted by something."  
  
I stared at her, wide-eyed. "I can't imagine what you mean," I whispered fiercely. Thank God she didn't answer.  
  
Medda was a husky-voiced, middle-aged woman, but she could certainly put on a stunning show. I had never really seen vaudeville before, so besides the inappropriate comments from my new friend, I enjoyed the performance immensely. I found myself not wanting to leave the theatre. Maybe that was because I would have to turn Race's way again when I walked out.  
  
Punky had apparently appointed herself Matchmaker. "I say," she started, turning to me as we were all standing up getting ready to depart, "I say ya dump the Cowboy and go for this one." She gestured towards Race, who had not yet left my side. I was appalled, and prayed he hadn't heard her.  
  
"Punky!! What are you saying?! Jack is not - I'm not - we're not - "  
  
She looked confused. "You're not? Oh, well gee, I'm sorry, I thought you were! Woops..." She winced, looking at Race.  
  
"Whatever gave you that idea??" 'People here certainly are bold, aren't they?' I thought huffily. 'Why do they have to TALK about things so openly?'  
  
"Well, you said he brought you here, so I thought - "  
  
I slapped my forehead in exasperation. "Will everyone think that I'm romantically involved with a boy if he brings me somewhere?" I asked.  
  
"Well...prolly not, it's just the way you said it, it sounded kinda...I dunno, never mind. Sorry, forget I said anything." She smiled and picked up her own coat. "But anyway, I'd still go for Race if I was you - he's not bad, is he?"  
  
And yet another bold comment! Would the embarrassment never end! After shushing Punky to the best of my ability, I found myself blushing profusely. I couldn't even turn to the right to see if he was still there. "Will you stop saying that, please? Someone might hear you!"  
  
She giggled.  
  
"Well, it's not funny...Racetrack doesn't like me, for your information. He doesn't like me at all. He can't stand the sight of me and hates to be near me. He only takes me places when he's assigned to, and grumbles about me the whole time. He drags me around like I'm a loose link on the end of a chain of sausages, and he hates my singing." By the end of the rant I felt light-headed and was surprised at myself...What was happening to me? Why did I care so much?? This was not a good situation.  
  
Punky just smiled and helped me with my coat. "Then why couldn't he take his eyes off you the whole time?" 


	13. A Fast Forward

I cried. After days and weeks and months of remaining completely focused and never abandoning my hope, I cried. I wept, I sobbed, I lay down on the four-post and let myself sink into the whining springs.  
  
The planning had been lengthy. It was not as though I hadn't had time to realize it. I just never believed it would happen. This wasn't my life; I wasn't part of the plans. They weren't preparing this for ME. Someone else, some other girl; she'd be the one standing with her back to hundreds of people who would watch her recite those meaningless lines. I was merely a stand-in - an understudy. When she returned from wherever she had gone, the way would be clear for me and I would pack up my bags once again, ready to board the train.  
  
The mirror stabbed me. It was merciless. 'This dress is not me,' I told myself, and then firmly, 'It is not ME.'  
  
But Maimee would never let me forget who I was. "I can't believe I ever allowed you to stay with your Uncle," she would smartly rasp, while fussily adjusting the buttonhooks that were hidden among the frills. "After awhile I realized what a mistake it was - that's why I sent for you."  
  
I smiled and stared at myself through the lying glass. "How foolish," I chuckled, meaning of course how foolish she was to believe I belonged in this city.  
  
"Yes," she acknowledged thinly, "how foolish."  
  
But now there was no Maimee to oppose me. It was only the mirror; that lying, cheating, bastard of a window that led me on endlessly and then roughly dropped me when the final moment came. This story would end tragically, I knew. I knew but I couldn't believe it.  
  
"So." I stood entirely still for a long time, just staring at myself, alone. Just the mirror and I. I detested the beads, the frills...the color white.  
  
White...  
  
White was Racetrack's button-down, long-sleeved, over-sized shirt. The scent of him...  
  
White was the part of his eyes that surrounded dark heaven. What was to become of the color white?  
  
"This is your life." As I surrendered the words huskily, I thought of all that I had been, all I had become, and all that I would forevermore be. I had become with him - he, I finally realized, was all that I am. And now no one would ever see what was behind the prison doors.  
  
My nuptial prison. 


End file.
